


Breaking a Cycle

by VariationsInVerisimilitude



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VariationsInVerisimilitude/pseuds/VariationsInVerisimilitude
Summary: A kinder trajectory for Joan and Vera.(First time I've ever been brave enough to write or post anything. So this is breaking a cycle for me as much as for them)
Relationships: Vera Bennett/Joan Ferguson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39





	Breaking a Cycle

They fall into a pattern that neither knows how to describe. Or rather they know, they just don’t want to acknowledge it. On Fridays, Joan will ask Vera to have a drink with her. The invitation will be proffered in such a way that it isn’t a request. Slotted in between discussions of staffing rotas or work unit details, it is presented in Joan’s typically brusque manner as just another inevitability of prison life. 

However, Vera will prevaricate. Her mother’s nurse can’t cover the night shift, a friend – whose name it is always a curious struggle to recall – is visiting, or sometimes she’s simply just sure that Joan must have better evening plans. But in the end she always says yes. Always says yes, even when she really means no.

They sit together in Joan’s office. Inches apart as soft notes of Bach or Tchaikovsky float between them. Ties off and hair loose - Joan sipping chilled vodka, Vera white wine. One Friday night, Vera had braved the vodka. She promptly declared the aftermath the worse hangover of her life. Luckily though, celebrating Linda’s 40th birthday had stolen that crown two weeks later. Thank God for small mercies. 

Tonight, Vera is quieter than usual. Most weeks she is chatty to the point of rambling. Nervous energy causes her to lurch from one story to another – an altercation in H block to Fletch’s latest conspiracy theory then to then back to H block or was it actually J? Her stories become so tangled that you’d think Wentworth was a nothing short of a madhouse.

“Not too far from the truth” Joan had once derisively said in response to a similar observation from her deputy. A remark that had Vera’s ears burning still as she spent the next few evenings practicing her Friday evening story telling over and over again in her bedroom mirror.

However, tonight Vera has uttered no more than half a dozen brief sentences, mostly perfunctory responses to Joan’s enquiries about her day. If the Governor had thought that she found her deputy’s inane chatter irritating, in the face of deafening silence she is forced to admit that she finds the younger woman’s conversation oddly endearing.

“Vera” Joan says.

“Yes, Governor” Vera’s head whips up, “um, sorry, yes Joan”.

“You’re,” Joan pauses carefully over her next word “distracted”.

“Oh am I, I think I’m just tired” 

“Vera,” Joan stretches far more syllables into the word than it had ever previously contained, “What happened to trust”.

Vera “I – I – “. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes “Why”

“Why what, Vera? If you insist on speaking in riddles, I will – “

“Why this”. Why the special attention. Why the desire for comradery. And why today in the bathroom did she overhear two of two junior officers talking about their friendship in terms which made Vera shake with anger and blush simultaneously. But sometimes that’s difficult to say in a sentence.

“You’re, you’re you and I’m just,” Vera takes another gulp of wine, “just me. Why are you doing this?” 

“I care about you Vera”

“No you don’t. No one could” The words are out of Vera’s mouth before she’s even realised she said them. Years of feeling alone and small trip off her tongue as naturally as breathing.

Joan grimaces. Some truths have a far too familiar ring. Despite herself, she reaches out and rests her hand on top of Vera, “I do care, Vera, I do.”

***

After that they move Fridays from Joan’s office to her house – an elegant glass and steel contraption nestled in a quiet Melbourne suburb.

Joan cooks: steak, seabass, dauphinoise potato, her mother’s pierogi recipe and everything in-between - all, as with everything in her life, done with the utmost care and proficiency. 

Vera’s job is to arrive punctually at 7pm, bottle of pinot in hand. On busy days, this appointment is made by the skin of her teeth. On others, knowing Joan’s insistence on punctuality, Vera arrives half an hour early, lingering awkwardly outside. If Joan notices that a blue Toyota Prius develops the curious habit of circling home at 6.30 pm on Friday nights, she’s far too a polite hostess to comment.

One evening, they dine on Joan’s patio. Vera talks of last night’s TV, Joan muses on the philosophy of corrections and they together laugh about Linda’s latest attempts at flirting with a new officer. Laughter makes Vera’s eyes light up and limbs unfurl themselves. This is no longer a woman who is shrinking into the corners of a room. It’s this realisation that makes Joan glow with pride.

It’s at this exact moment also that Joan realises she could kiss Vera. Wants to kiss Vera, even. She averts her gaze and starts attacking her steak with a startling ferocity, unsure if the strange feeling in her chest is fear or joy.

A month later they are in the garden, again. Heat radiating down from the setting sun.

“Vera” Joan says, as she piles another helping of salad onto Vera’s plate.

Vera places her cutlery down, gently. “Yes, Joan”.

“I’ve been thinking for a while”. She pauses, trying to resist the impulsive urge to straighten the angle of the table or scrub a non-existent fleck of dirt off of her wine glass. “I wanted to ask you … would you … I mean do you …”

Just as Vera had tripped over her words in Joan’s office, the Governor finds herself utterly tongue tied. This irony isn’t lost on Joan. For once, she feels small, uncertain, utterly lost. Feelings she has refused to feel for decades. 

She takes a deep breath and pauses for a few seconds, which feel like an eternity. She reaches over the table, cupping Vera’s chin. “May I”

Vera reaches up to touch Joan’s check “please”. A word she keeps saying until Joan is kissing her, soft and slow.


End file.
